Nightmares On Warm Summer Nights
by RishiGenki
Summary: Early summer - with nights normally associated with happy memories of families, and bright nights together under the stars - always brought that child nightmares. No pairings, just a fluff-drabble oneshot


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Sometimes, Sweden was awoken by the sounds of sobs.

It was usually on warm nights, during early summer - nights normally associated with happy memories of families, and bright nights together under the stars - but for the child who slept in his house, those nights always brought nightmares.

Tonight was one of those nights.

With silence, Sweden opened the door where the noises were coming from. In the bed lay the moaning Sealand, who was curled up tightly into himself, trembling and softly sobbing with his blue eyes tightly shut. Sweden walked over to the boy's bed and sat down beside him, stroking the tears off of Sealand's cheek. He silently gathered Sealand in his arms and wrapped his arms around the crying child.

Sweden shushed the boy, brushing the bangs out of Sealand's face. Sea-blue eyes opened slowly and met Sweden's own icy blue ones. Sealand choked on a sob. "P-papa..."

"'swrong?" Sweden asked, shifting te child in his lap so Sealand was sitting up. Sealand simply shook his head, then buried himself into Sweden's chest, clutching the older man's shirt with both hands as his shoulders shook, the silent sobs shaking with each rise and fall of his shoulders.

Sealand would never talk much about the times when he was alone - from both before Sweden had adopted him and when he had been abandoned in the aftermath of World War II - but Sweden knew that they were bad. Knew they were filled with agonizing lonliness, with hopes dashed and promises broken.

The blond child would never talk about it, but Sweden knew because of nights like this. Nights where Sealand would moan England's name, mumble promises about times Sweden knew nothing about, and cry. Even though the boy put up a strong front when faced with it in the morning, during the darkness of night, he was defenseless. He did not hide his feelings from his adoptive father, and Sweden in turn did not tell a soul.

He knew of Sealand's facade from the very beginning - from the first moment he had laid eyes on the child. It was during one of the G8 meetings in London, and Sweden had spotted the child looking longingly at the building the meeting was being held in.

The child who had been standing there was not the determined, energetic boy whom everyone had assumed him to be. It didn't even look as if he were that upset about the meeting. It was who was inside - the man who looked just like him - that had brought the wishing child there.

It was the look of a lonely little brother.

Sweden had known of Sealand's longing from the very begining. Sealand would never know, but Sweden's heart - as icy as some people claimed it was - went out to the boy.

Breaking himself from his thoughts of the past, Sweden turned his attention back to the problem at hand - namely, the sniffling boy in his arms. He gently pressed his forehead to Sealand's, still huging the child as tightly as he could. "'ey. Pet'r. Tell me wh's wrong." he said softly, his eyes and voice never changing. He probably would have looked terrifying in the light, but the only light that came into the room was from the moon, and that was shining only on Sealand's teary eyed face.

Sealand's eyes quickly fluttered shut, and he shook his head. "N-nothing, Papa. I-I had a bad dream."

"M'bout what?" Sweden replied, holding the child's head closer. "Y'gotta t'lk 'bout bad dreams, Pet'r."

The blond child was still hesitant. He looked up at Sweden, bushy eyebrows hidden under his sandy blond hair. "I-I was dreaming about th-that stupid jerk England a-again," he paused, blue eyes trailing away from Sweden's face. "I dreamt that I was still living in that stupid jerk's house, a-and I thought..." Sealand choked out another sob, and he didn't say anything more.

Sweden's eyes narrowed slightly. "'nd wh't did y'think?" he whispered under his breath.

"...t-that he left me. T-that he took me away and left me alone." Sealand whimpered.

This confession dampened Sweden's heart. The nightmares of England abandoning the child - which Sweden suspected had more truth to them then either of the brothers ever let on - were one of the most often occuring nightmares Sealand had. The blond child never talked about England in such a way normally, but the night brought out his worst fears. On these nights, if no one came to check on him, Sealand would hesitantly climb into the bed of whatever adult was closest - normally, that was Sweden, but sometimes Denmark, or Iceland, or Finland would be sleeping in the guest room next to where Sealand slept - whispering in a weak, sad voice that he was scared, and he didn't want to be alone.

None of the Scandinavians wanted to think of all the nights Sealand had spent alone when he had nightmares, the lonely years when he woke up to discover that he was alone, and there was no one there who would ever want to comfort him in his time of fear.

Sweden brushed Sealand's cheek. "Y'were scared?" he asked, still studying Sealand's face.

"...uh-huh," Sealand whimpered out a reply. "I-it was scary cause I was little. B-but I'm not scared anymore, cause I-I'm the strongest, and t-that jerk England is st-stupid because h-he won't acknowlage me."

The older blond brushed aside the obvious lie, instead holding Sealand tighter. "Mmm." he mumbled, raking his hands through Sealand's hair. "'course you're th' str'ngest."

And it was true. Sweden thought Sealand was strong, not because of his persistantness, or his stubbornness, or his big heart, or the way he promised he would make England bow on his knees in acknowlagement. No, it wasn't any of that, but because of the way he always pushed his lonliness aside, the way he sometimes fooled even Sweden with his smiles.

It was his weaknesses that made him strong.

"I-I'm not scared anymore, Papa." Sealand said in a trembling voice. "S-sorry if I woke you up."

Sweden stood, the blond boy still in his arms. "Mmm."

He began to walk out of the room and into the hallway, and both the blonds were silent. He then walked down the hall and into his own room, setting the boy on the bed. He too climbed in, then ruffled Sealand's hair in an attempt to be affectionate without being awkward. "Sleep."

The grateful, soft smile on Sealand's face was all the more endearing. "..kay, Papa." he said in a whisper, closing his eyes as he drifted back into sleep.

Sweeden stayed awake, watching the boy to make sure that he didn't start to cry again. He took Sealand's hand in his own, squeezing in an attempt to remind Sealand that he was no longer alone.

No, he wasn't. Sealand would never be alone again, as Sweden had promised himself that when he had adopted the boy.

Even as the nightmares continued though the years, Sweden would love him. He would love the boy, and he would hold him whenever he needed to be held.

It was all he could do to make sure that some of the boy's smiles were honest. 


End file.
